Let's Play A New Game
by Fanfic Lover 4evr
Summary: Owen is forced to go back to the academy, Dodger's secret still hidden. Dodger is set on getting what she wants from him, even if it means becoming violent. Deeper secrets about Mr. Walkers death will change everyones lives forever.
1. Back To Hell

Hello everyone! I saw this movie recently and I decided to give a jab at it cause I thought the movie was great!

Diclaimer: I don't own the characters, I'm borrowing them for this story

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_Dream Sequence:_

_Avoid suspicion . . ._

_Manipulate your friends . . ._

_Eliminate your enemies . . ._

_"Honestly, Owen, even if that were true... who would believe you?"_

_End Sequence._

Owen's eyes snapped opened and he quickly sat up. Sweat ran down his face and his nicely toned chest was heaving as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the world to save him.

Once his breathing was under control his eyes strayed over to his clock. The numbers **3:47 **glared back at him. He sighed, knowing that he would not be getting anymore sleep that night.

Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and got to his feet then walked towards his shower. He turned the hot nozzle to full blast and watched as the water erupted like a volcano, the clear drops cascading down the linoleum walls.

After stripping down to his birthday suit, Owen stepped into the scalding water and put his head underneath the showerhead, letting the water flow down his face.

Owen didn't know how long he had stayed like that under the water when his phone rang. He let out a groan and quickly stepped from his haven scrambling to find a towel to cover himself with. His wet hand grabbed onto the flashing numbers and quickly clicked the _ON _button.

"Hello?" his English accent flowing smoothly through the air.

"Hey Owen… it's Tom," the familiar voice spoke.

Owen unconsciously cringed at the realization of Tom; one of the people who set him up… was one of the members of the group that pushed him to shooting an innocent man. "What do you want Tom," he asked, his voice instantly cold and as empty as his heart felt.

A sigh was heard through the phone. "We heard that the charges were dropped… and we also heard that you could come back to school…"

"I'm not going back Tom," Owen interrupted.

"Oh come one man! You know, I'm sure Dodger misses you, she's been extra PMSIE lately," Tom tried to convince Owen; unaware that the red head had indeed been responsible for every problem Owen had suffered through.

"I'm sure she has," Owen muttered, purely disgusted by the thought of the girl.

Another sigh. "Well if you change your mind, we'll still be here, even though I'm pretty sure we're the last ones you'd wanna lay your eyes on."

"Maybe we'll talk again soon, goodbye Tom." And with that, Owen clicked the _OFF_ button and set the phone back on its charger.

* * *

_A Week Later:_

"Owen it's too late for you to change schools, you should be happy to go back. You're a hero; the girls should be falling at your feet! You brought a murderer to justice," Owen's father told him, dashing the teens dream of escaping the nightmare at that Virginian academy.

"You can't send me back! Do you have any idea what I went through while I was there? Do you have any freaking idea?" Owen shouted, trying to force reason into his father.

"Owen be reasonable, it's only for a few more months and then you'll be out of there and into college," Mr. Mathews explained. "You'll be fine Owen, I've even convinced your Dean to let you have your own room."

"I can't believe you!" Owen shouted as his father slammed the door to his car and drove off to work.

* * *

_First Day Back At School:_

"Welcome back Mister Mathews," the Dean greeted her hand at his back, gently guiding him towards his dorm. "This is it, I hope you'll be comfortable here. But if you do change your mind and do decide to have a roommate then just come and speak with me and I'll arrange for someone else to move in."

All Owen could do was nod obediently. Old fears and memories flying back to him at once.

"You remember where the mess hall is I presume?"

Again, just a nod.

"Alright, then I will leave you to get situated."

Another nod, and the woman was gone.

Owen moved his belongings to his bed, only removing his laptop. He wasn't planning on staying here long. If things happened the way he thought they were going to, then he'd be leaving very soon indeed.

The brown-headed teen was startled when someone pounded on his door, and none too lightly either. Instantly Owen's right hand was reaching into his bag and around the knife he now carried everywhere with him. Paranoia had become his best friend.

"Owen open the door it's me! Tom," the energetic voice boomed through the door.

Owen let out a relieved breath and got to his feet to unlock the door. "What do you want?" he asked, noticing that he had people with him. Randall, Lewis, Mercedes, Graham, and Regina all stood behind him. He couldn't help it when his first reaction was to slam the door, but Tom had guessed his next action and put his foot in the path of the doorway.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game," he whispered, his voice dangerous in it's ferocity.

Tom winced at Owen's boldness and his own guilt came flying back at him. "We don't deserve to be forgiven and we know that. The game got out of hand, and we're sorry."

This time Randall stepped forward. "Yeah man, we're sorry. Really fucking sorry."

Owen shook his head softly, his feet becoming his new line of attention. "Look I get it, and I've been trying to suck it up. I killed a man," he whispered.

"That man was guilty," Graham told him stepping forward, trying to take away Owen's guilt.

Owen shook his head harder. "No… he wasn't." his door was slammed shut before Tom could try to stop it a second time. The last thing Tom saw before he shut and locked the door securely was confusion crossing everyone's face.

Owen turned his back to the locked door and slowly slid down it, his bottom coming to rest on the carpeted floor. He tried to ignore the pounding on the door, and the worried voices begging him to open the door. Tears of guilt and frustration tracked down his face, and he cried for hours after his old friends let him be. Finally his tired tears forced him into sleep at his post by the door.

It was in the early hours of the morning when Owen was startled awake by a sound outside his door. His eyes snapped open and he held his breath, listening for any sound, believing that his ears had just played a joke on him.

Panic swelled within his chest when he heard the sound again, and this time the sound was made when someone grasped the doorknob and tried turning it. The lock prevented the mystery guest from entering.

"O…w…e…n," a feminine voice that was overly seductive spoke just above a whisper. "I know you're in there. The guy's told me they came by earlier."

The panic had escalated to full-blown terror within Owen. He turned and stared at the door as if it had suddenly morphed into some hideous beast.

The feeling of helplessness drove the horrified teenager to scoot across the ground until his back was against the wall furthest from the door with his feet drawn up to his chest. He continued to stare, hoping that the girl behind it would disappear.

For a few fleeting seconds Owen wondered how he could be reduced to such a wimp. He had started at this academy with his natural cockiness, with his confidence and it didn't even matter anymore. His short one-month break from the nightmare hadn't served him well. He'd woken up many nights screaming, and others his father had shaken him awake, the nightmares flooded everything, turning him into a social outcast.

The doorknob shook again before a clicking sound resounded and then silence filled the space.

Owen leaned forward slightly almost believing the girl had gone. Suddenly the door slowly opened to reveal the madly grinning Dodger. Owen tried to call for help, but he was frozen and his mouth hung open.

Dodger stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and locking it. In her left hand was a small bag and in the other was a bottle of something he could only identify as being alcohol. She was still smiling at him when she came to rest on her knees in front of him.

"I've missed you Owen," she whispered seductively into his ear. She brought her hand to his face and caressed his cheek bringing her lips to his own. When Owen pulled back into the wall to escape her, Dodger drew back herself and sneered angrily at the cowering teenager.

"Don't make me do this the hard way Owen," she told him leaning in again only to get the same reaction. She sighed and wiped the newly fallen tears away from Owen's face. "Fine, we'll do this the hard way."

Owen stared at Dodger in confusion and shock when he felt a slight tingling in his arm. He looked down to see a syringe sticking from his arm. Nausea and dizziness hit him all at once leading him to fall forward into Dodger's awaiting arms.

The last thing Owen heard before falling unconscious was Dodger's soft laugh.

"Mmm," Owen groaned as he came back into consciousness. He cracked one of his eyes open only to close it again when the bright sunrays blinded him.

He noticed that his body felt leaden to the point where couldn't move, while taking every ounce of strength he had not to fall back into the darkness that beckoned him, and something caught his attention. He was naked and the familiar sting of panic shot through him when he smelt the sickly sent of blood flooded his nose. His eyes snapped open and he got a glimpse of the ceiling above.

After confirming that he could only move very slightly he found that the sickly sent was coming from him. _Oh God!_ His mind screamed. He tilted his head forward to see his arms had been sliced to shreds, his blood adorning the sheets that used to be white. The blood was still flowing quickly leading him to the conclusion that they had been cut open recently.

Was Dodger set on trying to kill him, or was this a new sick and twisted game? Surely he'd die from blood loss if he didn't get help soon. But he could move, and couldn't shout for help.

Fatigue hit him once again, sending his head back down onto his pillow. His eyes drifting shut, and his mouth opening slightly as if to call out for help but not succeeding as his lips closed again.

Then there was a knock at the door. "Owen, it's me Tom again. Breakfast starts in less than fifteen minutes in the mess hall, I was wondering if you wanted to come down with me, and maybe eat lunch with the gang again, like old times."

Owen's eyes drifted open with much effort, and for the first time since he had been back here he hoped Tom would just come in. His hopes for help were dashed when he heard Tom's familiar sigh and then footsteps. "Tom," Owen called his voice not very loud.

"Owen?" Tom asked curiously from outside the door, apparently not sure if he'd actually heard his name being called. "I'm coming in Owen."

Owen was now worried that the door had been locked again after whatever Dodger had done to him while he was out cold.

The door swung open to reveal Owen's old roommate. "Owen!" Tom shouted running into the room. "What the fuck happened?"

When Owen didn't speak Tom rushed over to him, placing his hands on either side of Owen's face. "Hey bro, can you hear me?"

Owen nodded his head slightly, silently thanking the big man upstairs for having mercy on him.

"Shit, I gotta get some help!" Tom told him, turning his head towards the door. "Randall! Graham!" The other two teenagers rushed into the room to see what the ruckus was about.

"Oh god, what happened?" Graham asked while Randall ran from the room presumable going to find help.

"I don't know, I think he was attacked…" Tom told him. "Stay awake Owen," Tom coached.

No matter how bad Owen wanted to stay awake, and how much he knew it would help, he drifted off into oblivion.

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TBC... I hope you enjoyed it! Review are welcomed and appreciated!


	2. Life On Trial

Wow, it's been long... too long. Sorry everybody! Gah, I don't know what had me putting of this story for so long... okay maybe lazyness was a bit of a factor but I've picked up the ball and now I'm going to finish what I've started.

I hope that there is still some interest in this story even though I've been a lazy authoress.

But here, at last is chapter two;

Enjoy:

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Even now Owen could not believe the horrible luck that seemed to smash into him every time he walked out into the world. The young man had opted for becoming a hermit. After all he couldn't help wondering sarcastically if maybe he refused to show his face then nothing bad could possibly happen.

Owen Matthews never though his life could crumble like it began doing with his first arrival at Westlake Prep. Who knew the second time around would be worst than the first. Well, maybe deep inside he realized it would end in throes of battle or death after all, Dodger was set on getting her way.

Owen's awakening had been beyond unpleasant. He hadn't been surprised, no that would have taken something more like the conversation he'd heard his father having with his doctor outside of his door when they both believed he was still unconscious.

_"Sir, I know that must be very hard for you but I assure you that your son will make a full recovery."_

_Owen's attention had perked up at the woman's voice. He curiously turned his head towards the door and closed his eyes to concentrate on what was being spoken. _

_"He'll be fine then?" Mr. Matthews asked almost casually. _

_There was a definite sigh before regretful words were spoken. _

_"Physically he'll be fine."_

_After the slight pause Owen could almost imagine the thick brown eyebrows rise on his father's forehead. _

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_The tone was harsh and Owen winced at his father's 'business' voice. _

_"When I contacted his school, they informed me about the teacher, and the young woman that was killed…"_

_"They had no right in telling you that! Everything concerning my son is strictly confidential unless its coming from me or my lawyer. Do you understand?"_

_Then there was an air of aghast silence._

_"I'm sorry," the woman spoke abruptly but quite rudely. "But I think you should look beyond the legal drivel and open your eyes to the fact that your son just tried to commit suicide!"_

_Owen sucked in his breath and looked down at the white bandages that covered his arms and wrists. It was so painful to hear the words flow from her mouth so convincingly. And Own had no choice but to take his father's silence as acceptance for the lie he'd just been told. _

_"What should I do? Huh? Tell me, because I've done all I can for my son but he refuses to snap out of the stupor he fell into after he killed that man."_

_"Let him talk to a psychiatrist to help him deal with the guilt and grief. It's better than letting him drown into it. Obviously he's shown us that damage he can do to himself."_

His father had come inside the room then. Not realizing that Owen was well awake and aware of everything.

"Owen," Mr. Matthews breathed and looked at his son impassively.

Owen had painstakingly pulled rolled his eyes up to look at his father. "I didn't try to commit suicide," he told his father softly.

Mr. Matthews looked at his son in disbelief.

"I didn't," Owen snapped. "I was attacked!"

Anger shown through Mr. Matthew's eyes. "Really? You were attacked. That's what happened?"

"Yes," Owen breathed. He knew instantly that it was a lost cause, his father didn't believe him and chose to stand with all the other people that believed he was a suicidal invalid. "It was Dodger."

Owen's head jerked back from the impact of his father's powerful backhand. "Don't you dare accuse anyone for your stupidity other than yourself."

The young man turned his head from his father and stared at the door.

It really was hopeless, he was the sheep and Dodger was the wolf that was going to gobble him whole. The read-headed bitch had won.

"You're going to see a psychiatrist," Mr. Matthews informed his son once he calmed down enough to speak civilly.

Owen didn't dare open his mouth again, but that didn't keep him from cursing his father, the doctor, Dodger, and everyone else in the fucking world for his position.

It wasn't fair.

* * *

**_A few days later:_**

"Mr. Matthews," the nice young secretary beamed at Owen from her desk. Her bright white teeth and the headset she wore made her look a bit brainless. "Dr. Lallatin will see you now."

Owen nodded and gave her a thin, tightlipped smiled as he passed her and pushed open the dark maroon door.

The room was finely furnished with dark green walls and a blue floor that seemed to distract from the rooms' beauty. There were lamps standing on alluring desks as well as the characteristic leather chairs that took up most of the space in the room.

"Ah Mr. Matthews, please, come take a seat."

Owen had to admit that Dr. Lallatin was a beautiful woman with a finely tailored suit to go along with her finely tailored hair, shoes, and makeup.

She was holding a writing pad and pen in her hand. But what really caught Owen's eyes was the tape recorder that sat on the glass table separating them from each other. When she reached forward to shake his hand, he fought to roll his eyes but willingly gave his hand to her.

"It's nice to meet you," She gushed.

Owen remained silent, hoping silently that she'd realized he wasn't as happy as she was to see him.

She frowned and picked up a manila folder and opened it, examining a couple pieces of paper. "You attempted suicide?"

Owen fought a snicker and the impulse to scream in her face. "No."

She smiled knowingly and leaned forward so her elbows were resting on her knees. "That's the first step," she announced.

It was in those words that Owen realized he had no idea what she was talking about. "Excuse me?"

"The first step to healing," she began with a large smile, "is denial."

"Okay," Owen growled.

"Lets really get into it then." Dr. Lallatin coaxed. "So Owen, tell me about your life."

"Are you going to tape this?" Owen asked as he eyed the tape recorder.

Dr. Lallatin looked down at it and squinted slightly as if considering it. "I never tape the first session."

Owen breath a sigh of relief and let his shoulders go lax.

"Your life Owen," she reminded him.

She was eyeing him almost as if she could accuse him of lying if the false words came from his mouth.

"I have no life," he told her stubbornly.

Dr. Lallatin let out a sharp laugh, leaning back and then scrolled something down on her notepad. "Then tell me about your friends."

"I have no friends."

"Really?" Dr. Lallatin eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "What about the group of kids that were at the hospital after your _accident_."

Owen snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "They're just a bunch of rich snobs who pity me and feel guilty for everything they've caused."

"So you blame them?"

Owen glanced around the room uncomfortably. "Maybe," he said softly to himself.

"Do you feel guilty for what happened?"

Owen glared daggers into her. "What do you think?"

She put the pen to her lips and shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think, I want you to tell me what _you_ think."

"Yes," he snapped.

"Yes what?" Dr. Lallatin asked remotely. Her face showed nothing but fake innocence to his emotions.

"Yes, I feel guilty."

"Guilty for Rich Walkers death?"

"… yeah."

She sighed and leaned forward again. "Guilt is one of God's cruelest emotions placed on the human race. Don't you agree?"

Owen rolled his eyes and squeezed at the bridge of his nose, knowing that a migraine was going to erupt soon. "I guess."

"Good," Dr. Lallatin approved and once again scrolled something down on her notepad. "I think that's good enough for today. I'll be seeing you again same time next week alright."

"Fine," Owen conceded as he shook her hand again and walked from her office.

His head was down as he his elevator reached the ground floor. Lord knows he wasn't expecting…

"Hey Owen."

Owens head shot up at the familiar voice.

* * *

TBC... 


End file.
